Category: Expat

Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, Husband, London, Travel, Weekend

Brunch, A Coming of Age Story

“And now leave me in peace for a bit! I don’t want to answer a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!”
“Good Heavens!” said Pippin. “At breakfast?”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Last week was busy for both of us. Between days in the magazine office and nights spent freelancing for me, and long hours for him as busy season gathers force – all of which interspersed with some truly heinous days of commuting due to strike action on the part of Tube workers (I spent 10 of a 48 hour period commuting by foot and only occasionally bus) – we needed some indulgence on the weekend. And since we were being terribly grown up with grown up problems like commuting, a grownup weekend indulgence like brunch seemed the very thing.

There is something very adult about having brunch, as opposed to breakfast. Anybody can stumble blearily to the cupboard of a morning and slosh some cereal and milk into a bowl. But brunch, at least brunch in the more fashionable areas of London, requires effort, kittens.

2014-02-09 11.15.01

I’d been hearing mouthwatering things about Jackson and Rye in Soho so last week I made a reservation for the weekend and Jeff and I trotted off that morning to enjoy ourselves on an uncharacteristically bright winter day. My initial desire to dine there was due to a pretty delectable sounding description of their buttermilk friend chicken sandwich, but the only time I could get us in was 10am. Fried food might be okay in Jeff’s book at that our of the morning, but it’s definitely an abomination in mine. I got a delicious eggs, potato, and fancy vegetable breakfast while Jeff threw himself on the sword of the aforementioned chicken – a great hardship for him, I’m sure – so I could at least taste it in between munches of grilled sourdough toast smothered in avocado.

2014-02-09 10.39.43

Lest you think I’m dwelling too much on this, I was incredibly smug because historically Jeff tends to always choose better food than me when we go out to eat. Almost inevitably the dishes he chooses are better presented and tastier than my selections, which irks me greatly. For once at least, I won brunch. It was delicious – Britain has converted me to slightly softer cooked eggs and I haven’t looked back.

2014-02-09 11.04.29
The bar area, kept hopping with hot drinks, fresh juices, the acceptable day drinking options like mimosas and Bloody Marys.

We’ll be going back because we quite liked it; I still want to try the Avocado Eggs Benedict (I really love avocados but finding decent ones it’s nigh impossible thus far) and because it felt really nice to “do brunch,” eating nice food in a fun place, leisurely people watching, and chatting about our further weekend plans (spoiler, one of the most interesting theatre experiences I’ve had in a long time). Very responsible and far more put together than many of our usual weekend morning routines. I wouldn’t want to do it every weekend, cereal and milk is frankly sometimes just what I need, but as an occasional treat I think it sounds quite nice. Minions are welcome to join us.

2014-02-09 11.15.24

Britain, Expat, History, Humor, London, Travel

Pub Signs I’ve Met and Loved

Work is the curse of the drinking classes.
– Oscar Wilde

I’m pretty sure this will be a continuing feature (my love of British placards and signage being well established).

2014-02-04 16.55.40

I’m beyond ready for Game of Thrones to be back – as Kerry, once put it, you can tell a lot about a person by who you think should rule Westeros. Your answers to that immortal question in the comments, please. This guy also looks about as cheerful as Kit Harrington does in character – aka, miserable.

2014-02-09 11.27.00

The eventual title of my autobiography, I’ve decided.

2014-02-09 11.23.35

One of my favorite pubs every for reasons that will become more clear in a later post.

2014-02-09 11.30.55

I haven’t investigated this claim as deeply as the Not-Sir-Christopher-Wren-Or-Queen-Catharine-of-Aragon House. But I will say I have seen more than one “oldest pub/restaurant/licensed premises in London” sign in my time.

2014-02-09 11.22.50

Self explanatory. (Or if not, a landmark of a restaurant that had to close in October of last year, but petitions were got up to keep it opening and functioning because it’s a Soho mainstay. Also, the name is cheeky, because it’s Soho.)

Britain, Expat, History, Humor, London

Lies, Damn Lies, and History

“Do you just constantly have your own little side adventures?”
“Yep.”
– Troy and Abed, NBC’s Community

Jeff likes to tease me that I stumble across random historical and cultural things by mistake. He calls it, “leading him into wardrobes,” which I take to be a high compliment. But some of these adventures take the most pleasant of odd turns. Take for instance this charming little house nestled into a quiet spot near Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre on the south bank of the Thames.

Adorable, right?
Adorable, right?

Exactly the sort of historical house I’d love to buy if I had pots of money. It had caught my eye before on many of our Thames strolls, but one evening I decided to wander closer (deaf to the dire warning of Jeff, who said I’d be arrested or at least scolded for venturing onto private property). Which is when I caught site of the stone inscription:

2013-12-25 12.05.15

Which, if squinting isn’t a help, reads, “Here lived Sir Christopher Wren during the building of St Paul’s cathedral. Here also, in 1502, Catherine Infanta of Castile and Aragon, afterwards first queen of Henry VIII, took shelter on her first landing in London.”

Which already would have been cool if it was true, but is even more cool since it’s a pack of lies!

A little historical digging, starting on the internets and confirmed in some more official records, leads you down the most glorious, London-y-est, twisty, and complex turns. First of all, the house on the site wasn’t built until 1710 which was the year St. Paul’s was completed – making it pretty hard for Wren to have lived there while he was building and totally impossible for the long suffering Catherine of Aragon to have stopped by at all.

2013-12-25 12.04.07
But in this alternate historical narrative, Wren’s view was fantastic.

To be fair, Wren did live up the road a few houses, but not at this particular bankside address. But in any event this placard (which as it turns out is a recreation of an earlier one that has disappeared) seems to have originated on a nearby building – which historians are unable to determine was or was not the site of Wren’s house. When the building was demolished, an intrepid local salvaged Placard 2.0 and hoisted it onto his own house.

In the final twist, this area of London was bombed heavily during WWII and was considered to be a less desirable part of town in general (I’ve mentioned before that we live in a former Dickensian slum, yes?) So after the war the powers that be were thinking of ways to improve the neighborhood. Postwar, and currently this usually meant bulldozing the damaged history bits and putting up new developments…

But!

The placard ensconced in the stone made them wary that they might be tearing down a culturally relevant site. And though sometimes weighed down by bureaucracy, the Brits usually bow to their own history.

Thus this Stuart era house – where Christopher Wren did NOT live, and Catherine of Aragon did not break her journey – stands. Impervious to historical accuracy, Hitler, and planning councils!

Britain, Expat, Humor, Linkstorm, London, Wedding, Work, Writing

Friday Links (Freelancers Gonna Freelance Edition)

“All happiness depends on courage and work.”
― Honoré de Balzac

Big week! I’ve finished the majority of some major assignments. And I have a pretty big opportunity happening next week, provided of course that nothing falls through. More on that as confirmations roll in – we hope! Here are your links, kittens. I’m distracting you with shiny things while I hustle to wrap a few things up and fight a burgeoning sore throat with absolutely massive amounts of tea.

Fresh mint tea when I can get it!
Fresh mint tea when I can get it!

Interesting and thought provoking read about work values, privilege, and labor.

Trigger warning, because the blurb alone is pretty bad. Court. Ordered. Gang rape. Utterly, utterly horrifying and hideous. This is why we need feminism, sorry those who say it’s outdated.

Watch enough BBC period pieces (and trust me, I HAVE), and you’ll start feeling a sense of deja vu…

Pretty good, but not quite as good as Richard III turning up in a car park on the very first day in the very first trench the archeologists dug. That one still takes the cake.

I give both this headline and the clothing items described therein a resounding, huzzah!

What’s that, well beloved minions? You say you still haven’t found a calendar for the new year? Feast your eyes, kittens!

This one’s not for the pearl clutchers, fair warning. Enthusiastic medievalist I may be, but frankly between the wars, famines, plagues, and “medicine,” in many ways it’s a marvel our species made it past the 15th century in the West. Add these sorts of logistical worries and it might be a miracle we made it past the 10th. Although we have the behavioral evidence of several kings of Britain alone, to say nothing of popes, to show that the medieval world seemed to have viewed this more as guidelines… (Sidenote. ‘Are you in church?!’)

Minions with kids, take note! Gap (whose Peter Rabbit collection for kids I found adorable) is now doing a Paddington Bear collection.

Need something cute for your home? Of course you do!

Flags and foods of the world! (h/t Jessica)

Just in case I cut myself on Hiddleston’s cheekbones.

An old neighbor of mine, who it must be said is a kinda well known name in the world of baking blogs and Pinterest, is getting her first book published soon, and it’s already available  in Kindle edition! High five, Ashton!

Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, London

Chocolate Week Part III: Alexeeva and Jones
“What you see before you, my friend, is the result of a lifetime of chocolate.”
― Katharine Hepburn

Best saved for last, kittens!

IMG_0824

This is another Portobello Road find, which Jeff and I literally stumbled across on a side street while trying to avoid tourists. A charming young man was standing outside the shop with samples, and it would have been rude to turn him down. After which it would have been rude not to go in and buy something because, ducklings, this store is incredible.

Alexeeva and Jones is a self described ‘salon du chocolat’ which brings some of the world’s top chocolatiers into one place. The shop occupies some prime real estate on Westbourne Grove in Notting Hill and each chocolatier’s work is beautifully presented to an admiring public. Without doubt these stunners are some of the most visually gorgeous foods I’ve ever seen and photos don’t do them justice, but here are a few anyway.

IMG_0827
IMG_0833
IMG_0830
IMG_0832
This woman is an utter delight. She’s served me both times I’ve been in (the second time, obviously, to purchase goodies for our Christmas stockings). She is so unabashedly enthusiastic about her work, and is one of the most genuinely friendly salespeople I’ve ever come across in my life. Between personal recommendations, descriptions of the various chocolatiers’ signature styles and flavors, and being generous with the samples, she’s the girl you want waiting upon you while you browse.
IMG_0831
So, when you come to visit me in London, after we’ve bought you some tweed, we’ll recover our equilibrium by choosing some of the strangest and loveliest confectionery available. May I personally recommend the sea salt caramel with mango and coriander? You’d think it would be awful, but it’s just the nicest thing imaginable.
IMG_0836
Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, London

Chocolate Week II: The Chocolate Festival

“The greatest tragedies were written by the Greeks and Shakespeare…neither knew chocolate.”
― Sandra Boynton

One of the joys of living south of the river (and I don’t mean that sarcastically, it’s seriously awesome down here) is the south bank of the Thames. It’s got theatres (hi, Globe!), markets, wharfs, museums, more history than you can shake a stick at, and a steady stream of interesting events. The Southbank Centre itself is a major London hub and is constantly putting on nifty events. One such was the Chocolate Festival in mid-December.

It was a great outdoor market sort of affair, with stalls upon stalls of independent growers, importers, craftsmen, and bakers (this was where we lost out cronut innocence) lined up offering their goods to public nibbling. What, I ask you is not to like?! Everything from cocao nibs to chocolate beer was represented and absolutely all of it looked just as gorgeous as it tasted.

I’m going to mostly shut up from this point and let you soak in the goodness.

Just one row of stalls.
Just one row of stalls.
IMG_0781
I find cake pops a bit too precocious…but I would eat these in a heartbeat.
Hm...what are those flavors, you ask?
Hm…what are those flavors, you ask?
Awesome!
Awesome!
This company creates the most gorgeous concoctions, with flowers, gold and silver, and anything else you can think of.
This company creates the most gorgeous concoctions, with flowers, gold and silver, and anything else you can think of.
Nuts, bolts, scissors, pipes, wirecutters, irons...all made of chocolate! Easily the most impressive stall.
Nuts, bolts, scissors, pipes, wirecutters, irons…all made of chocolate! Easily the most impressive stall I saw.
Britain, Expat, Friends, Humor, Linkstorm, London, Weekend

Friday Links

“No weekend, all weakened.”
― Toba Beta, Master of Stupidity

A few misadventures this week (including a ticketing office splitting up tickets over two separate dates, which annoyed and vexed me greatly), but also goofing off with Katie and Adam, and Ruth and Terri. Also this has been significantly less frantic than last week, which can only be a good thing! A few freelancing projects to get through today, lots of housework (blech), job apps, and a run to the dry cleaners is all that lurks on my Must Do list. Here are your links, tell me what you’re up to this weekend.

A fortifying treat with friends last evening.
A fortifying treat with friends last evening.

Hide yo’ hedges, hide yo’ shrubberies! Actually, this is one of the more puzzling and intriguing mysteries I’ve seen in a while. Perhaps my next mystery will be of the horticultural variety.

Freelancers, assemble! New York Time journalist and author Caitlin Kelly’s webinars for success in freelancing or  for boosting your blog or site traffic are available for sign up now, and so are her individual coaching sessions which I wholeheartedly recommend!

History nerd find of the week! A blog exploring the clothing collection of Charles Paget Wade, who lived from the 1880 through the 1950s. (People with that kind of lifespan intrigue me!) Apparently he was one of those magnificent, British eccentric collectors, whose archives are now maintained by the National Trust. His passion was Georgian, Regency and early Victorian clothing, and the collection looks incredible.

I want – nay, need this table. Though I fear to obtain it might require obtaining the boat it’s attached to…

A brief article of the mostly forgotten sister of Benjamin Franklin. The differences between the siblings’ circumstances are quite stark. Considered one of the Great Men of his age, a self-educated wit who made a profession and legacy of words – and a woman who only read “as much as she dared.”

Loved this article in the Atlantic about the importance of telling stories (h/t Mel). There are massive gaps in my understanding of my family history. Partly because my immediate family’s relationship with extended family has not always been smooth and so a lot of lore simply hasn’t had the opportunity to pass itself along, and partly because my immediate family has been busy for most of my life creating our own story all over the world. But as I get older I think about my family stories more and more, and try to think of ways to learn and preserve them. I never knew until this past summer that my great-grandfather on my Dad’s side supported his siblings and made his own way through Harvard (in the 1920s when it was still a place of privilege that he had not been born into). Or that my Scottish great-great-grandfather (I think) on my mother’s side followed his brother to the Western frontier with Mormon pioneers to stay close to him even though he wasn’t part of that faith himself. What else have I missed!

Current resident favorite Tom Hiddleston has a Jaguar deal, his commercial for which is basically a homicidal riff on his Loki character (which I’m sure will have some clever twist come Superbowl time). I had a moment’s pause thinking that for such a talented actor it might be frustrating to be defined by a single role… And then I remembered he’s already won an Olivier Award and is probably laughing it all the way to the bank, and got on with more important pop culture ponderings.

If ever I design a home, you can bet it’s going to have a secret passage or room.

Another map. Everyone’s good at something! (h/t Matt)

This made me laugh (h/t Heidi who is living in Denmark). What are the dressing stereotypes where you live? At some point I should knock together a Brit style post, but frankly I’m still trying to figure some of it out.

Complicated issue, blah blah blah, lots of feeling on either side, etc. I’m unabashedly pro-vaccine and I’m a bit alarmed at how many people give credence to the anti movement especially given how many of their concerns have been utterly debunked. (h/t Savvy).

This happened yesterday and London responded Britishly.